It was 7:00PM. Two men from the cafeteria crew began their delivery routine. Their carts were loaded with meals prepped for the good little test subjects and bins full of today's menu for the rest of them. The men pushed leisurely through the chamber halls, stopping before every cell to slap a hot tray through the door. One of the men pulled out a list. "Tunnel 14-72... let's see... from one to ten, muffins, cereal, the waffles, the country-fried steak, standard, standard, standard..."
Ren heard the men deliver his breakfast. A minute or two later the intercom announced it was time to eat, and the door in front of him opened. He stepped in and glanced at the plate of unflavored mush, then at the one-way mirror, and finally the clock. It was then that his stomach rumbled. Ren took the tray and went to scarf down his final meal: unflavored oatmeal, a bottle of water, some frozen strawberries, and a couple cookies. He finished with a burnt mouth, stretched, and took one last look at the inside of his room. Then he checked the clock again with a sigh. Ren snuck a glance at the camera overlooking his breakfast table and cleared his throat.
"I don't know if your chefs bake these cookies from scratch or what, but they're really good. Thank you."
Violet energy whipped from his jittering hand and crumpled the camera up like paper. Ren walked back to the door leading into his cell and stepped to the side, looking inward. His brown irises shifted to a deep purple hue as he cocked his head. The bed was ripped loose of its excessive bolts and brought beside Ren in the interview chamber. He flung the mattress and blankets aside, leaving just the dense frame of steel. The young psychic then grit his teeth, casting an eerie, luminescent glare over the fortified one-way mirror. The bed frame viciously pummeled away at the window, shattering the glass and denting the metal inward.
"Here we go," Ren said, holding his breath.
Three guards heard the rhythmic booms and called away the nearby kitchen staff. One of them radioed in for help as they rushed in to assess the situation. "PSY14 attempting to breach his ITV room. Calling for immediate backup! Hurry over!"
Ren heard the sounds of their radio and knew what to prepare for. He attacked the stubborn reinforcement panel with even more force, anxious to get the show on the road. It convexed further with each resounding thud before eventually giving out. The next room was finally open, but the soldiers moved up to the broken window before he could pass through. Their firearms were fountains of plastic pellets, most of which would shatter against the hard surfaces all around Ren while he hid behind his flipped table. The hot shrapnel nipped at his exposed arms and face, which he tried to alleviate by unrolling his sleeves and putting a hand over his face so he could see through one eye. It was all he could think to do aside from letting them push him back into his cell, which would be exactly what they wanted. Ren looked around to find something that can help him through the suppressive fire.
These same men taught him to be calm and resourceful in combat, but his five years of experience as a psychic bloodhound have made him dauntless and creative. With a power that relies heavily on focus and situational awareness, he was already equipped for this first hurdle.
Ren hugged the table while sneaking peeks at his foes: they were cautious, knowing full-well how quickly death can come to someone once they enter the boy's sight. They refused to commit to poking their rifles out and stuck to shooting a quick bullet or two before retreating. “PSY14 is still contesting the ITV room. Requesting ETA.”
Ren finally hatched an idea as he laid his eyes on the blanket and pillow.
A slab of metal slammed itself against the window, causing the three armed men to flinch and shout. The frame crashed itself repeatedly until the guards were conditioned to stay hidden behind cover. It was then that a red shape dove through the window and landed between all three of them. Two of the men opened fire, only to realize it was just a blanket wrapped around a pillow. It was an embarrassing mistake that just cost them the fight, for Ren had already seized the guy closest to their exit. The young psychic poked the guard's exposed throat, and just like that, he was limp. Ren grabbed the rifle and backed up to the door while keeping his eyes on the other two, who made a futile attempt to stop him with a slew of bullets. Without their angles, they had no chance of sneaking a bullet past the telekinetic barrier. All they could do was watch as the boy broke off the handle and shut the door in their faces with a wave goodbye.
For the first time in over a year, Ren stood right outside of his cell. But the first part of his escape was far from over. Now he had to traverse the labyrinth in search of the exit. Guards were fast approaching from both ends. Ren flashed one of his notorious grins and charged the group still coming around the corner while firing blindly at the group behind him. "HERE COMES THE CRUNCHIN'!" he screeched.
“BACK UP!” the men shouted in response. The first thing they saw was the light of his eyes beaming like headlights out of view. Ren slid around the corner on the heels of his socks and was met with a dangerous barrage of plastic bullets. It was clear these men either didn't know what he was, or were panicking out of their minds from the fear of getting their necks snapped. Ren caught up to one of the men and grabbed his face, instilling simple hypnosis so the man would cease all movement but remain standing. Pellets beat at the man's back, but he was blessed with armor. The boy used him for cover while he proceeded to apply a more complex strain of hypnosis.
“Gun please,” he demanded. The man calmly handed him the rifle. “Thanks. Go tackle those guys behind me."
His temporary comrade promptly ran off to bowl over the boy’s hunters while Ren sprinted at the remaining dozen of soldiers ahead. They stopped firing out of consideration for the other group on their target's tail, meaning the boy was free to do whatever he pleased for the next few seconds. Everyone in his way was mercilessly battered by tenebrous apparitions of hands and fists.
Ren trotted over the mountain of unconscious men heaving and grabbing at his ribcage. Someone got lucky amidst the chaos. A single bullet was almost enough to floor him, but he endured the stinging pain and kept moving. He looked over his shoulder. The hypnotized guard was still bodyslamming as many people as he could. Ren took a sharp turn left and slowed down a bit to recuperate by massaging the welt beneath his jumpsuit and steadying his breathing. He used remote viewing to check back on the guards and found they were all back on their feet and ready to resume the chase. Ren picked up the pace and switched to scanning his immediate vicinity for auras, anticipating an eventual flank or ambush.
Running through the endless grid of white hallways and steel doors, he saw only the auras of fellow inmates. One aura had a slight color and sensation to them, indicating a fellow shiner. It reminded him of Aashi for some reason.
“Yes, she is very dangerous, and very quick to kill. One wrong move and she will meld you into the floor, and with fire that roars so loud nobody will hear you scream. But her power is a lot like yours. Her eyes even light up when she’s using it! Sneak up behind her and make it quick.”
Ren sighed. "Why was I so stupid?"
While he was distracted, a trio of grunts leapt out of cover and opened fire. Ren jumped to the side and dove forward, manipulating his entire body with telekinesis. He swooped towards the men faster than they could adjust. Once he was close enough, he swerved lower and threw a punch at one man's kneecap, then leg-swept another man off his feet. The last one was beaten against the wall by an ethereal fist. Ren immediately tore their helmets off and began hypnosis. “Follow me to the checkpoint,” he ordered. The men, still reeling from their injuries, obeyed him. “You, take off your kevlar and give it to me. No, I don’t want the helmet, just the vest. Give me your gun, too."
The radios on their belts hissed and crackled. “Attention all units. We now urge you to neutralize PSY14 by any means necessary. Lethal rounds now authorized."
Ren grimaced. He slipped on his new vest and adjusted it. “That’s messed up. I guess there’s no turning back now. Also, gimme that radio.”
It was good timing for him to encounter these men, because his first trial was just up ahead: a bulky, fortified gate held down by dozens of soldiers. The area was congested with auras that were still in the midst of gathering up. From what he has seen from past contenders, one would need immense power to break through, or a sneaky power to slip through. Anything less usually resulted in the escapee's capture or demise. All Ren could do was use his hypnosis to finesse himself through. But something about all this bothered him. He used to love using an attacker's own bullets against them. Surely the people in charge would already be aware of that, and yet they give the grunts permission to use real bullets.
“On second thought… I only need one of you to follow me.”
“Why?” one of the men asked. “You should be better off with all thre–”
Ren rolled up the man's sleeve and placed a hand on his wrist, forcing him to sleep. He then did the same for the next guy. The third and final one raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Keep moving," Ren groaned. "And yes. Protecting people isn't my thing, so I'd rather stick to having just one assistant at a time."
"It's our job to protect you, though. Not the other way around."
"Not sure if you noticed, but I'm trying to avoid getting anyone killed today."
It seems their commander has caught on, though. Their switch to real bullets might have been a clever strategy after all. It wasn't to kill Ren, but to kill anyone he rallied along. Not only that, but they had realized from the previous skirmishes that the psychic was holding back.
The gate leading to the checkpoint was just up ahead. Ren stopped to take a deep breath before knocking the gate off its hinges. He was immediately greeted with bullets from every possible point of the barrier. The whole thing had slits to fit the barrels of firearms through, from sub-machine guns to mounted weaponry. Ren casually absorbed the downpour of lead. "See any openings?" he asked the guy behind him.
The hypnotized guard struggled to make anything out. He squinted and scanned but eventually gave up. "No. It's all solid."
"Stick close, then. We're moving up."
They ran closer to the large barricade. Their vision was gradually becoming obscured by floating bullets until they stood right in front of the gate. It also happened to be a major blindspot, but in a few seconds it won't mean much. Ren could hear dozens of boots squeaking directly behind the gate. He motioned to the bodyguard, and they placed their thumb against the scanner. The gate slid open but nobody was there. They were all waiting on the sidelines for him to walk through.
Ren grabbed his bodyguard by the wrist. "Thanks. Go walk to that corner and take a nap."
He returned his attention to the space before him. The short walk between the open gate and the elevator was eerily and mockingly empty. There was no mistake that they were all waiting, though. Their auras gave them away.
Ren focused on the elevator button in the distance. A long, ghostly finger stretched towards it. "Boop."
Nobody said anything. They definitely noticed, but they knew better than to rush in. Actually getting in the elevator won't be as easy. Both parties waited quietly for a few long seconds.
"Anyone got any plans for the weekend?" the boy eventually asked. He anchored his rifle on his shoulder and cracked his neck.
“It’s Sunday,” one of them answered.
"Oh. Well... how about... Mondays, huh? Anyone looking forward to spending it in the infirmary? If not... maybe, like... leave me alone?"
No response. Like him, they were all watching the elevator's countdown. Ren crouched down. In just a moment, he would have to race their bullets inside. Light peered through the crack in the door and a soft ding broke the tense silence. Right as that ding sounded off, all hell broke loose and guns sounded off like thunder. The air was shaking. Countless bullets filled Ren's view until he could no longer see the light of the elevator. Time was running short before it would close again. Ren took a few steps back and gathered all the bullets he collected into one tight ball. To get through, he would have to hurt them all badly.
“Sorry,” Ren called out unapologetically. Though his captors were correct to assume he had no intent to kill anymore, they were wrong to assume he wouldn’t go as far as cripple his enemies. The tense ball of bullets was thrown amidst the gathering of guards. Nobody was able to escape the explosion of lead that followed, and thus the room echoed with the shrieks of three dozen men hitting the floor at once, all clutching their punctured, mangled feet. Ren slipped into the elevator and slammed the buttons. It closed right before another wave of armed men appeared at the gate.
“Get the medical team out here,” the radio buzzed.
Ren fell against the wall and sighed with relief. An obnoxious exchange of chatter came through his walkie talkie. It went on to mention the elevator and "shutting down".
“Oh, come on!” Ren scrambled for the panel and furiously slapped at the buttons until the elevator let him out. The boy threw himself out as soon as possible. The door attempted to close itself on him but he barely got through. After checking to make sure his foot was still attached to him, he looked around to find himself surrounded by cubicles. People started poking their heads out to see what the fuss was all about. They all looked on in stunned silence, flinching a little when Ren picked up his rifle with him. He tried not to make eye contact, instead opting to give an awkward smile. It didn't do much for him -- they started to whisper amongst themselves.
"Anyone know where the restroom is?" he asked calmly.
That didn't work either. There was an excruciating silence broken only by the sound of panicked whimpers. "Hurry! He's up here!" hushed voices around him would hiss.
Ren panicked. He fled the scene afterwards, calling them all snitches as he went.
The young psychic glided through the office level as fast as he could, but he could already hear radio chatter and squeaking boots converging on him. He sped up in search of a place to stand his ground but only garnered more witnesses to rat him out. The guards now understood where he was going. With no knowledge of the level's layout, the boy looked to the arrows promising a way out. Three guards passing by called out the young psychic and chased him down the corridor. More guards joined in the chase with each intersection they crossed. It was inevitable that some would succeed in cutting Ren off, however. He had no choice but to charge straight ahead. They brandished knives and waved them in the air to slash the boy as he moved to soar over their heads. Ren narrowly evaded each of their blades. He became quite pleased with himself until he spotted six more men rounding the corners ahead, also holding knives.
"No, no, no!" Ren hissed. He aimed his rifle ahead, though he wasn't quite sure where to shoot. A clip full of plastic bullets would probably only disarm a couple of them, taking his own aim into account. He hugged the ceiling, which then drew his attention to a large sign up ahead, dangling from the ceiling by two little chains. He was initially wary of it, but quickly realized his enemies were right beneath it. Ren pulled the trigger and watched his bullets miss the chains and instead hit the ceiling lights. Glass rained right behind them, but they didn't let that distract them. The bullets only started to hit their mark once Ren neared stabbing-range. The sign fell on three heads with an audible bonk. Then it slid off the backs of their heads and hit the other three in the face. Ren sped past with wide eyes as they swung at the air haphazardly.
It was another minor success. Three more men stepped up to the plate. Despite the air-conditioning, Ren was starting to feel hot under the pressure. He grit his teeth.
This would be a lot easier if I just twisted their meaty necks and–
They lashed out at him. Ren swooped between the centermost grunt's legs and clotheslined all three of them by the ankles. As infuriating this all was, he remained disciplined. Against all odds, he reminded himself.
This... I have to do this! If I can't, I'm better off dead!
Two more showed up. He threw his rifle at one of them and confronted the other head on by catching the man's wrist and flying past him. Ren kicked the man in the elbow, breaking his arm and forcing him to release the knife.
AGAINST ALL ODDS!
And two more appeared, this time with one other guy lagging behind.. Ren threw the knife at a high velocity, nailing one guy by the shoulder. He baited the other guy into swinging high, then sunk low to wind up a fury-driven front-flip that kicked the man's helmet right off. Ren snatched that helmet mid-air and chucked it at the straggler.
HOW LONG ARE THESE HALLS?!
That was when he saw a sign that said "Cafeteria". Ren made a sharp turn for the dining room but was met with heavy resistance from the men already posted there to guard the tables. He was forced to abandon the idea and cut across towards the exit on the other side. But, upon ramming through the doors, he spotted a ray of hope down the hall: two vending machines side by side, laden with sugary drinks and bags of chips. Ren swooped behind them and tossed them down, sitting between them like they were a miniature fort. The gunmen approaching from the north end of the hall halted their pursuit, fearing he was finally about to initiate the lightning-fast killing sprees he was notorious for. Some had second-thoughts about their position and felt up the nearby doorknobs to find sanctity in the nearby rooms. The psychic whipped massive purple claws all around him as a warning to stay back. The men heeded him for only a couple seconds before gradually regaining the courage to seek cover. Their flankers were not far now either.
“Surrender now, son,” one guard demanded. “We have you surrou–”
"Can it!" Ren shouted. He launched a slab of metal plastered with the Pepsi logo towards the group, knocking everyone down in a hilarious domino effect. Countless soda cans could be heard clanking and rolling from the boy’s position. The continuous ringing and clinking of ice-cold aluminum sent chills down everyone’s spine.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The cans gathered up into one great wall, and in rapid succession launched themselves down the hall, striking every exposed individual where kevlar didn't cover. Whether they stood their ground with their guns or pried frantically at doors, everyone was nearly crippled by soda. A measly five seconds passed from start to finish, and everyone in front of the boy was now writhing on the ground with broken arms, legs, and shoulders. The chaotic cola counterattack had coated every inch of the floor in fizzy juice and water. Then Ren turned to the incoming flank.
Men peeked from around the corners to find the boy already looking their way. "OH SHIT!" one of them screamed. The one leading the mob frantically shoved the grunts into reverse. “Back! Back! Back!”
He and several others were met with concussive blasts of Coke. One of the luckier men, merely winded from a can to the gut, gasped into the radio. "PSY14 has wiped out--" Before he could finish, an entire vending machine came crashing into the back wall between him and the rest of his comrades.
“We need fifteen janitors!” a young voice barked through the radio. “He’s got a hundred more cans!”
“Shit, he’s on this line now. Everyone switch to–”
Ren giggled mischievously. “But they’re all diet!”
“You know what? Fuck this shit.” The grunt picked up a gun left by his dazed friend being hauled to safety. “Never liked this kid. No way in hell am I letting him blast me with a can of soda. I'm certainly not gonna let this psychotic little shit roam free!"
“Want some diet Sprite? I’ll pass one to you.”
The grunt checked the magazine of his extra gun and prepared to leap out of cover, only to be held back by a colleague. “We need to wait for backup. This ain’t the first–”
Everyone in the mob heard the noisy sound of aluminum rolling on the floor. Countless cans rolled up to the back wall and piled on top of one another.
“Take cover!” someone shouted.
All but the one brave soul fled from the amassing pile of cans. He challenged the young psychic with a sub-machine gun on each hand but was viciously thrown aside in a shotgun blast of soda cans aimed at every limb. Ren proceeded to maim everyone as they ran by blindly firing the cans towards the sounds of boots. More men appeared behind him, likely the same people who were just guarding the cafeteria. He spun around and took cover, launching aluminum missiles from the far end of the hall onto their arms and legs with great precision and excessive power. Some of the flankers who managed to get away before made the mistake of returning to assist their backup.
Ren got a bad feeling about this. He noticed his reserve of cans of running short, and the men on both flanks wielded their guns.
"Remember," he heard one of the men say on their radios. "Don't stop shooting until it's all over. No matter what."
"Yeah," a man on the other side of the hall said. "Nice working with you, guys. All of you."
"Same here," voices replied.
Ren's eyes widened. They were going to put everything on the line, just to complete their mission. In just one moment, he will be shot up from both ends of the hallway. The only way to survive here without anyone getting killed is to block every single bullet from both sides, all while dishing out enough damage to put an end to things himself. The boy braced himself, a wicked grin crossing his face from ear to ear. His expression was akin to a cat lining up a pounce on an unsuspecting mouse.
Moments like these are where he truly shines. Nothing brings out the best in him quite like a dire situation. It's the only way he can achieve absolute focus, to work every muscle in his body and every wrinkle in his brain, all to overcome the insurmountable. His eyes began to flicker ever so subtly, almost like the light of a candle. "I'm pretty good at multitasking, you know."
Bullets filled the hall, converging on the lone figure in red hiding behind a single vending machine. He spun on his toes in the face of his executioners. They thought their bullets were hitting, hence the erratic twitching of his head. It swung left and right like it was about to fly off, but nobody picked up on the fact that his eyes were still glowing. Not until they heard screams within their own ranks and the splash of liquid rupturing from silver cans. The boy continued to throw his body in place. The bullets kept flying. Wisps of purple light flickered around him. Less bullets filled the air; more screams filled the air. Within seconds, a fraction of the firing squads remained. Some of the soldiers paused to check on each other, finding half of their comrades lying in pools of blood. The assault weakened as a result. Ren's inhuman twitching became a swift dance between bullets. At this point, the men could see his actions more clearly. They watched him weave between all their shots while hitting each passing bullet with a wisp of telekinetic energy. Every single bullet was having its direction shifted mid-flight. PSY14, without fail, knew where each bullet was coming from and when. The boy evaded them all regardless of which way he was looking. In this moment, he was omniscient. The remaining gunmen stood no chance. They collectively stopped firing, realizing there was nothing they could do anymore.
The boy stopped dancing. His body had become stiff, his eyes unfocused, but a slight smile creeping on his dry lips nonetheless. They thought the boy was finally dead for a moment because of how still he had become. But his chest still rose and fell, albeit unevenly. And his empty eyes cast a light on the wall like spotlights. It seemed like the perfect chance to finally try and put an end to him, but the men had given up in a way, having accepted the futility of striking with so few of them left. Their hesitance made way for Ren to finally strike on his own. Lavender hands sprung from his sides, delivering the most painful "punch" anyone in that scene had ever felt. Their limbs were mangled without mercy. Some tried to escape him by fleeing into the nearby conference room, but Ren marched in after them, his face lacking expression but his body language conveying a sense of thrill in the hunt. It was a foolish mistake to run there in the first place, for the chairs and tables they sought for cover became the very weapons used against them.
“Who’s still up, dammit?!” shouted the last man standing as he heard his allies screaming in the nearby room. The hallway was filled with nothing but the groans of his men and the boy’s rapid breathing. It almost sounded like he was laughing under his breath. The man hesitantly brought out his radio and whispered. “Need more backup. Report in.”
“Negative, Smith. We’ve been told to stand by,” the voice on the other side spoke.
“We need backup! PSY14 has–” Smith stopped himself when he heard a light sloshing. The ragged breathing drew closer.
“I’ve won,” the boy breathed. “Ahhh, that was so fun. And I actually won...! I've..."
“I repeat, PSY14 has–”
“--WON!” Ren shrieked as he emerged from the corner. He forced a hand under Smith's mask and sunk his nails into his face. The man was no match for the monster of minds, as he quickly fell comatose under the harsh, retina-burning light of the young psychic's eyes. Then it was over. The hypnotized soldier awoke a moment later, disorientated, while Ren waltzed back to where he stood his ground to pick up the last can of soda he saved for the aftermath. He was still giggling with delight.
Ren cracked the can open, and it exploded onto his hands and jumpsuit. “Oh– come on!” he whined.
He sipped on his half-empty can as he hurried between the incapacitated soldiers, hypnotizing them one-by-one so they could get up and limp to the infirmary. Their blood had infused with the pools of sugary drinks, turning the flooded area into a foul soup of broken cans that was unpleasant to walk around. His socks were soggy and everything was sticky. On top of it all was a raging migraine that had been brought on by his brain's shift into overdrive. "My god, this place is a mess,” he sighed. The last of the wounded soldiers had just been sent off, confirming that his work was now done. He patted the hypnotized Smith on the shoulder. "'Kay, let's go."
The restroom was nice and clean until Ren tracked wet footprints into it, but it was the only place he could wash up and take a quick break. He splashed water into his face while taking quick breaths inbetween. "I'm not even halfway there and I already feel awful. Not to mention there's still… them." He looked at the agent who was standing guard in the doorway. “Who do you think they’ll send after me? My guess is they’ll send another shiner like SHF92." Ren chuckled. "I hope not, 'cause I have a bit of a crush on her. I'd hate to have to hurt her."
The guard shrugged. "Safe to say it'll be someone you can't handle."
Ren turned back to the mirror, though he was apprehensive about staring into it just yet. "Yeah. You're probably right."
With that said, Ren felt a strong desire to see what his reflection promised. His eyes wobbled in his sockets, seemingly drawn to the reflection calling them from the mirror. But he needed a moment to prepare himself mentally, so he kept his head low and pondered until he was ready to face the aftermath of receiving forbidden knowledge.
Slowly, he raised his head.
He made eye contact with himself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet, but his heart started pounding with anticipation.
Finally, it activated. His presentiment was given focus.
It began with a slight, barely noticeable twitch that seemed to ripple throughout his entire body. His face was distorted by a mere inch. Then there was another ripple, upon which he would then find some unnerving discrepancies in his body. But he couldn't look directly at them. He had to maintain eye contact with his reflection or else he would have to start over. Everything he looked for was hidden in his peripheral vision.
The first thing he noticed was a curl in his lip. But those lips would slowly fizzle away, gradually revealing a naked grimace. The whites of his teeth became a glaring contrast to the rest of his body, which darkened until entire chunks of his flesh turned black and red. Ren felt his hair stand, but he wasn’t sure at the moment if it was due to his own fear or another effect of the premonition.
Then the charring of his body abruptly stopped. For a moment, he thought it was over. But right before he tore his eyes away from the mirror, mysterious wounds bled into the image like scrawls of a brush. A hole opened up in his throat. Then another, in his left cheek. Then another in his forehead. And finally, more puncture wounds marked his neck. That last wound, he recognized from past premonitions. It signified decapitation.
Ren finally had enough and looked away. He suddenly remembered to breathe.
"Huh? What was that?" asked Smith.
The boy ignored him, still dwelling on what his fated corpse looked like. To possibly die so violently in these halls of all places… just what kind of person are they planning to send after him?
He snapped out of it when he saw a hand waving in his view. Stupid agent.
"You alright there, kiddo?"
Ren blinked. "Y… Uh, yeah. Let's go."
As he stepped out, the intercom sounded off an eerily cheerful jingle that, for once, made his heart sink. "Counteragent dispatched. Attention PSY14, a counteragent has been dispatched. This is your last call to surrender."
"Can't wait," the boy burped. "I just know it'll be someone interesting."
"What should I do?" asked Smith.
Ren walked up to Smith and poked his forehead, putting him into a deep sleep. He only needed the man to guard him while he was in the restroom. Bringing him any further would only put him in grave danger and possibly slow Ren down. He therefore opted to search for a way up on his own.
Some of the bystanders from the office area got anxious from the silence and started searching the halls for answers, briefly crossing paths with Ren and bolting off with a yelp. No doubt they were going to report their sightings, Ren thought. It was only a matter of time until his adversary would track him down. So he leaned against the wall and waited for them to come to him. He passed the time by running constant scans for auras and crushing every camera on sight. A bit of privacy would be necessary. He didn't like the idea of being brutally murdered live on camera. It also gave him a teensy bit more control of the oncoming fight.
Soon enough, an unusual aura entered his mental radar. Something about it bothered Ren, however. The counteragent had already closed a fair amount of distance by the time Ren detected them, as if this person appeared out of nowhere within proximity. Ren kept his eyes on the strange presence and made a note of the aura’s traits. Something about it was very off-putting. It was indeed a fellow shiner, but the magnitude of their aura was immense and strangely foreboding. For some inexplicable reason, looking at it made Ren nauseous. The mere sight of it rattled the boy's connection with the world. The longer he stared, the longer the hallways stretched and the smaller his body felt. Whoever this shiner was, it was clear from their aura that they had a power beyond Ren's understanding. A chill ran down his spine when he began to wonder what exactly it was. He decided at the last second that he needed more time to prepare before facing the counteragent, so he made a sudden but stealthy retreat towards the restroom. He stopped in his tracks when he heard two clicks of a person's heels behind him. Ren looked over his shoulder. "Too late to back out now," he thought dreadfully.
An aged but fit-looking man stood behind him. His navy-blue eyes were full of caution, but his smile seemed almost friendly. He wasn't even armed! Whoever he was, he was quite confident to let Ren have a peek at him instead of outright attacking.
Ren took advantage of his generosity, looking up and down with an odd look on his face. "You're… the counteragent?"
There is a very strict dress code that everyone, no matter how loyal or dependable they are, is forced to follow. That dress code is a jumpsuit bearing the wearer's codename. There were no exceptions as far as Ren knew. Yet here he was, faced off with an old man dressed fine and dapper in a brown suit and white shirt. His brown hair, which had a subtle blue hue for some reason, was shiny and slicked back.
“Yep,” the man replied, clearing his throat as he brushed his shoulder. His voice had a slight, vague accent that Ren thought was Russian, but wasn't too sure of. “I work for the same people you do, or uh, used to. They just let me wear what I want because... heh, I like to dress nice, and they can't really do anything about it."
Ren smirked, slowly turning to face his enemy before taking a combative stance with his hands held out. “You’re not gonna like what’s about to happen to that suit, then."
But then, to his shock, the man vanished into thin air. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. Without a trace. Ren caught on to the old man's trick and jabbed his elbow at the subtle presence now behind him. A heavy gust of wind blew past right before the elbow connected. Suddenly the man was in front of him again. Ren lashed out with a lightning-fast thrust of psychic energy. But again, the man was gone. The air rushed to take his place.
“Stop it,” the old man gruffed.
Ren begrudgingly eased up.
“Don’t turn around,” the man warned. He cleared his throat again and paused. “Actually, hang on. Do that again.”
“What? Like, attack you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed.
Ren hesitated. He really didn't like being toyed with. “Well… now I don’t wanna.”
“Come on, just–”
Ren whipped around, swinging his fist as fast as he could without ripping his arm off by guiding it with energy. Of course, the man was once again nowhere to be seen. Ren then heard an exhale from the empty space he once occupied. The man wasn’t there anymore, but it felt and sounded like he still was.
“So it's true. Another shoi-oner.”
“What? Uh… did you mean shiner?”
“Yeah, yeah. Gah! What is it with you kids causing trouble like this?” The invisible man started to circle Ren at a walking pace. All the boy could hear was his voice, without the click of dress shoes or rustle of clothes. “Good on you for not killing anyone, but come on! How are all you kids getting locked up here in the first place? Does nobody teach you to keep your abilities hidden?"
Ren shrugged and made a vague "I don't know" noise.
“Alright, where are you from? Wait, where were you born, actually?”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Why does it matter?”
“Just tell me,” he restated. “Where were you born? Be honest, alright?”
Still a bit confused, Ren answered, tapping his foot on the floor. “Japan. Born in Japan, raised here in 'Murca."
"Ahh, so you were born here."
"No, I was born in Jap--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. What about your parents? Where are they now?"
Ren gave him a deadpan look.
"Oh. Sorry. Well, uh… okay… where were they from, then?"
"My mom was American, my dad was Japanese, I think. I don’t really know him. Or his relatives, if he has any."
"Huh... do you at least know how or when they met?”
“Nope."
There was silence… a long silence. The stranger was clearly contemplating something, giving Ren time to process the situation.
"Wait… if this guy has the power to phase through reality… then how do I end up…?"
"Alright!" the invisible man interrupted. "Let me tell you something: That glow in your eyes? That's a sign you're of Aumacarin descent. Could be that your father came from my world, right? Because I wasn't born here on this planet, and I think neither was he."
Ren stifled a laugh. "This is getting ridiculous."
The radio on the invisible man's belt erupted into the chattering of a rabid squirrel, demanding an immediate update on the "negotiation". Apparently the man's codename was "BEND7". The voice on the other end spoke incessantly over BEND7 until the strange man had enough and turned it off.
"Ugh, anyways, where was I? Oh, yeah. So your father was from my world. Yes. Let's get this over with."
"I guess he was, sure. Don't know why you bothered telling me if we're gonna fight to the death anyway, but thanks."
"Nonono, I don't kill kids! I'm sending you where you belong. To my world! Since you're a good psychic from what I can tell, you'll figure things out on your own and be back to living a normal life in no time. Just stay out of trouble this time and lay low, got it?"
"Wherever you say I belong, I don't." Ren backed away from the invisible man. “I've already decided on where I'm going. If it's not there, it’s nowhere."
The man suddenly appeared again where Ren sensed him. He held his hand out and tightened it into a fist. In a flash of light, a staff of white stone appeared in his grasp, emitting vibrant, shimmering clouds of smoke from the pearl-like head. The man produced a round, glowing ball from thin air and stuffed it into the hole on the pearl before twirling the whole staff in his hand. “This works too, perhaps. Putting on a show for your old boss will preserve my image, but I’m sorry for anything I do to you.”
Ren was caught off-guard by the reveal of his unusual weapon, but quickly assumed his combat stance. “Whatever” he sighed. He saw his fate in the elegant staff’s mystical smoke and grinned.
“Please don’t come back,” he heard a voice behind him all of a sudden. Ren lunged forward to make distance between himself and the man, but when he turned to face him and retaliate, the man was gone again. “Hey,” BND7 coughed, his voice still coming from behind. Ren repeated the same action. This time, however, BND7 appeared right in front of him with his weapon held up between them. Ren busted his lip on the giant pearl and recoiled, but the old man skipped forward and followed up by lightly bashing him in the chin. Next, BND7 swiftly brought the pearl down onto the boy's left shin. Ren buckled with an angered yelp.
“Sorry!” the crazy wizard said once again. He bonked the kid one more time in the face, knocking him flat on his back. With Ren finally down, the man teleported over him and pressed one foot onto his chest, magically dipping him through the floor like it was made of gelatin. Ren felt the world envelop him, but he was completely helpless with the throbbing headache that man just gave him. He plunged deeper into the unknown, his senses overloaded by distorted visions and broken voices. That wouldn't be an issue for long, though. Everything turned black but he was still conscious. Then his ability to breathe slipped away once he reached a point oxygen could not reach. For the rest of his descent, he suffocated. All he could do then was clutch his throat and wait for an end.
After all he had done right, this one unfortunate encounter made it all for naught. Ren Toda, the little monster known for his depraved curiosity, was finally dead.
…
BEND7 produced a sodden bag of cookies along with his radio and leaned against the wall.
"BEND7, do you copy?" the radio repeated impatiently.
"Yes." He opened the bag and gingerly brought a cookie to his mouth, smacking his lips to get every bit of flavor from it.
"About damn time," the man on the radio boomed. "I’ve been trying to tell you that the little bastard broke nearly all of the cameras in the area, so we lost sight of you. What happened?"
"He did?” BEND7 finally noticed the mangled camera overlooking the hallway. He then glanced at the blood on his staff and shook his head. “Oh, uh... well, don't worry, my friend. I took care of PSY14 already.” He looked to where the boy just was, poking around with his foot to see if the wormhole had closed properly. “Hmmh. The poor boy is no longer of this world."
“He was not a poor boy. Had he managed to escape… let's just say you did the world a huge favor, buddy. Good job.”
“That so?” BEND7 squinted at the floor, thinking back on what he'd just done before shrugging and wandering off to go flirt with the office workers.